


Various Uses for Towels #2: Drying Tears

by TheWordsmithy



Series: Various Uses for Towels [2]
Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Loss, M/M, Towels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 11:06:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/722521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWordsmithy/pseuds/TheWordsmithy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Arthur is rather sad and Ford finds that towels are very good for drying tears.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Various Uses for Towels #2: Drying Tears

It had been another evening of partying and drinking for Ford Prefect. He and Zaphod had gone off together on some planet whose name Ford couldn’t pronounce and didn’t remember. Zaphod had been there countless times and was pretty fond of the place, which was known for its loud, exciting bars (something that generally appealed to Ford). He was supposed to have enjoyed himself, and he did, but it meant he had to leave Arthur alone on the Heart of Gold, and this bothered him. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he’d done something wrong any more than one can shake the nagging feeling that they’ve left the stove on after leaving the house or that the pet parrot they’ve just purchased might actually be a terrier in a very convincing disguise.

When Ford returned to the Heart of Gold (going back before Zaphod did because the aforementioned nagging feeling was getting too strong to allow him to enjoy himself), the first thing he did was go to the room he and Arthur shared. His nagging feeling led him to believe he’d find the Earthman there. As he went down the hall to their room, he heard some kind of sound coming from within it. It was curiously like laughing, which worried Ford, because Arthur was not the sort of person who laughed to himself when left alone. When Ford entered the room, however, and found Arthur curled up in the corner, his face buried in the sleeve of his bathrobe, he remembered the ironic twist of the universe that is the similarity between the sounds of laughing and crying.

Ford ran to Arthur and gently grabbed his arm, like one gently grabs a kitten that is obliviously wandering too close to a fireplace for its own good. The tears welling up around the human’s eyes and trickling down his face made it quite obvious that he was not laughing.

“What’s wrong?” Ford said quickly. “Arthur, are you alright?”

“Well, I’m sitting here, crying uncontrollably and trying to hide from the universe. Yes, I’m obviously quite alright. Why do you ask?”

Ford was fairly certain that Arthur was using sarcasm. Holding onto one of Arthur’s hands, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing really,” he answered. “I’m having another one of my moments, you know, where I’m suddenly reminded of the fact that I’m not on Earth and there isn’t an Earth for me to be on anyway and no matter where I go or what I do, everything’s entirely unfamiliar and…” His words broke up as a fresh stream of tears rolled down his cheeks; he let them fall without bothering to wipe them away.

Ford reached for his satchel and pulled out his towel. It was sort of instinctive for him; when he didn’t know what to do, he always reached for his towel. There was almost always some way he could solve the problem that involved its use. Pulling Arthur forwards somewhat, he put the towel to the Earthman’s face, drying his tears.

“Shh, shh,” he said, these syllables being the first that he could think of. “There, there,” he added, these syllables being the second that he could think of. “You’ll be alright.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.” Ford settled into a sitting position alongside the human, still dabbing his face with the towel. “Here, use this. Dry your eyes. Please try to feel better.”

Arthur sobbed loudly into the towel once more and threw it over to Ford, whose arm he grabbed and leaned into. “Thank you. I rather think I needed this.”

Not entirely certain what else to do, Ford took one of Arthur’s hands and patted it in what he hoped was reassurance. There were still a few wet lines on the human’s face; Ford took the towel and dried them too, finishing the action by kissing Arthur firmly-but-gently on the face. 

“Don’t panic,” he said. “Just…don’t panic.”

Arthur took a firmer and more complete hold on Ford’s arm and pressed himself against the Betelgeusian’s body like a tired person presses themself into a blanket. “Thank you for having your towel with you.”

Ford looked at the tear-stained towel and smiled at Arthur. He draped the cloth over the two of them, as though they were sharing a blanket, and ruffled the human’s hair as he leaned back, relaxing onto his companion’s shoulder. Their arms were around each other. “Every good hitchhiker,” Ford said, “should know where his towel is.”


End file.
